Tea for two and other things
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya enjoy a Sunday brunch together. Originally posted on section7mfu Live Journal for the picfic Tuesday challenge. The prompt was a picture of a cobalt blue and gold Lomonosov tea set from the Soviet era.


It was a beautiful day, the temperature just before noon was nearing seventy degrees, though the previous night had been a bit chilly in the low fifties.

Napoleon Solo rose early, showered and shaved, making his way out to get the usual bagels, pastries and the Sunday newspapers. After retrieving said goodies, he'd make his way back to his partner's apartment to have their brunch.

It had become a habit of theirs when not on assignment to relax together, and pretty much do nothing.

Some who were aware of this ritual often asked why the two men didn't get tired of each other's company. Napoleon's explanation was that he considered their assignments a completely different interaction for them as compared to just hanging around as friends; though he did say they weren't joined at the hip and were not with each other all the time. One had only to look in order to see they both had very different interests to occupy their down time.

Solo and Kuryakin were polar opposites in their tastes and how they viewed life, yet an unlikely friendship had grown between the two men, one based on a deep, mutual trust.

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Napoleon returned from his shopping foray and made his way up the stairs to Illya's apartment on the second floor. He could smell bacon cooking...sausage too. Illya, though he claimed he couldn't cook was up to his usual tricks, preparing no doubt eggs as well, along with hash browns. There'd be fresh fruit compote on the table too.

Illya had become a little homebody in that respect, though he'd never admit it. There were jokes made about him only being able to boil water; he claimed to know how to do 'survival' cooking and nothing more.

If the breakfast he usually laid out was survival cooking; Napoleon found that hard to believe.

He gave his special knock on the Russian's door, and it opened, with Illya's serious face greeting him.

"How can you not smile on such a gorgeous day tovarisch?" Napoleon asked as he walked straight to the kitchen. "We should really be outside today...maybe we can take a stroll after brunch?"

Illya looked at him as if he had two heads.

"It is just another day, and a little warm for my taste actually. Gorgeous...enh. Though I do admit I look forward to these brunches of ours." He finally smiled, eyeing their feast as they set the table with bowls of scrambled eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, sausage, bacon, and hash brown potatoes, along with the bagels, crumb cake and croissants. As soon as they seated themselves, they began munching away. To wash it down there was tomato juice, orange juice, and tea...a good strong tea the Russian had found in Brighton Beach.

Illya brought out his prized possession, one that an acquaintance had managed to get for him on a visit to Moscow...it was a cobalt blue tea set, trimmed in gold, though it was one that was destined for import, and not terribly dear. Still for Illya Kuryakin, it represented a bit of home and good memories, not the bad ones for once, as home was a place he would most likely never see again. He had decided he wanted one of these tea sets after his frequent visits with his now deceased friend Olek Andriyenko.* The old man had welcomed him into his home and treated him like family.

Olek's apartment had been filled with memories that included Russian tea sets, a samovar, Matryoshka dolls and a number of icons. After missing Olek, Illya decided on purchasing a tea set.

Solo thought it rather decadent for his austere friend, but the tea service seemed to fill Illya with a fondness he'd not seen before, perhaps it was better described as sentimentality. Russians, like the British, took their tea quite seriously and Napoleon let it go, not giving his partner any of his usual digs.

"Well nice to know something makes you feel good," Solo looked at the blue and gold porcelain tea cup as he sipped from it. He supposed having tea in such a nice container was rather pleasing, making him think of Waverly's fondness for his Darjeeling in a fine china cup

"Maybe I can change your mind and convince you to take that walk in the park with me...do a little bird watching, as Mark would say, instead of staying indoors and reading the newspaper?"

"Why would I want to go looking for THRUSH on my day off? They can wait until Monday for once, can they not?"

Napoleon snickered, "I'm talking about girls chum...you know chicks, those kind of birds."

"Ooooh, why did you not say so in the first place? And why are girls always referred to using an avian designation?"

"I believe the term 'chick', a short form for chicken being used to refer to a young woman had its origins in Sinclair Lewis' book 'Elmer Gantry,' Napoleon smiled at having an answer to give his sometimes too knowledgeable partner.

Illya cocked his head, listening with interest until it became his turn to add to the discussion. "The term 'bird' referring to young women as birds, dates back to the Anglo-Saxons, who used the endearment brid, meaning 'baby animal'. Not surprisingly, the word 'brid' is the derivative of bride. Over time, the term created a number of similar words, all of them having to do with young women, "Illya added his final two cents. "And the cancan, in France in the 1890s, took its name from canard."

"Which is French for duck," Napoleon smiled knowingly. "Did you know shen they danced the can-can, the girls displayed their tail feathers and originally wore no underwear."

'Napoleon, please must you spoil my meal? Illya swallowed a forkful of eggs, trying not to laugh.

"So after we finish here, can we please just go to the park?" Napoleon persisted.

Illya had cleaned his plate and was doling out a second helping.

"Why not,' he sighed. "I can just as easily read the New York Times while sitting on a park bench. Some fresh air as long as it is under a shade tree would be acceptable. However, I will not participate in that bourgeois and chauvinistic habit of yours at ogling women."

"Well if that's the best you can do, I'll take it chum," Napoleon grinned.

Together the two off-duty agents cleaned up after their brunch, with Napoleon drying the precious tea set and Illya putting it safely back into the cabinet with perceptible sense of reverence, until it's next use,. Illya was not the sort to leave such things out for display.

The American realized his Russian partner had come a long way in the area of domesticity. Illya once had the most mismatched plates and cutlery he'd ever seen; the man having picked up everything second hand at a thrift shop. Eventually Napoleon convinced him matching dishes were in order and took him to Bambergers, selecting a simple white setting for four...nothing fancy.** The fact that it was plain suited Illya well enough.

And now to see Illya Kuryakin going from that to this elegant Russian tea set was quite a change, a good change, Napoleon thought. Illya didn't have to live the austere life he was accustomed to in the Soviet Union, though it was taking awhile for that to sink into to his head.

Illya still had his attitudes and beliefs about decadence and petite bourgeoisie, though they seemed to be making less of an appearance in Illya's commentary on the American way of life, in general.

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They left their apartment building, hailing a taxi as the walk to the park would have taken over forty minutes, the journey was not what Napoleon had in mind, but the destination itself. By cab it would only take ten minutes or so.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as they headed for Central Park and once there, they found themselves a place not far from the great lawn, filled with families, couples and plenty of pretty girls sunning themselves in their skimpy tube tops, short-shorts and mini skirts.

It was a veritable smorgasbord to Napoleon's eyes, and he smiled, for all the protests from the Russian, he caught his partner bird watching over the top of his newspaper.

"So much for bourgeoisie..." the American snickered.

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* ref " A small world indeed." ** Snapshots chapter 40 "If it's not about food..."


End file.
